Warning: This post is personal, but I hope it resonates with anyone having a hard time accepting how much life—and they themselves—can change.
I’ve always liked fashion.
Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I used to really like fashion.
I remember back in college when I needed a dress for a ball. Instead of buying one, I decided to make something out of an old skirt we had at home. It wasn’t as pretty or polished as the dresses everyone else was wearing, but I was proud of it because I made it myself.
I was lucky enough to have a mom who was a seamstress, so all the tools I needed were already there. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I had an idea, some fabric, and the freedom to experiment.
Looking back now, I don’t think what mattered was the dress itself. It was the fact that I could take something I already had and turn it into something that felt like me.
I was content. I was creative. And I didn’t need much to be excited about something.
Somewhere along the way, I lost a little bit of that.
I’ve been having a lot of thoughts and reflective moments lately. Maybe it’s because August is my birth month, so naturally, I’m thinking about getting older, where I am now, and how much has changed over the years.
Or maybe it’s the weather too. August in the Philippines can be so unpredictable. Most days, it’s raining hard, we’ve already had four or five storms enter the country, and there’s just been a lot of chaos happening around us. It’s a lot to take in.
Sometimes all that noise makes me want to retreat into my own little corner and think.
I’ve also realized how beneficial it is to disconnect from all the loud noise on the internet, especially social media. There’s always something happening, something to react to, something to be angry or worried about, and sometimes you don’t realize how much of it you’re absorbing until you finally step away.
But that’s probably a different topic for another blog post. 😅
Right now, I’m just reflecting.
And somehow, I found myself thinking about who I was when I was younger, the things I used to enjoy, and how much of that person is still part of who I am today.
After school, life became busier. I started working, met new people, made new friends, and suddenly had a very full social calendar. Weekends were for going out, drinking, partying, dating, falling in love, getting my heart broken, and sometimes doing the whole thing all over again. Haha.
Without really noticing it, I slowly stopped doing many of the things I enjoyed when I was younger.
I also spent a lot of my younger adult years chasing romantic relationships. I think part of me really wanted the kind of love I’d seen in movies and read about in novels, so when I loved someone, I gave a lot of myself to that relationship.
Maybe too much sometimes.
It’s strange how you can lose parts of yourself without realizing you’re losing them. It doesn’t always happen because of one dramatic event. Sometimes you’re just busy. You’re working. You’re in a relationship. You’re trying to keep up. You’re doing what everyone else seems to be doing.
And then one day you realize you don’t even know what you like anymore outside of all those things.
The pandemic forced me to confront a lot of that.
I lost my corporate job. I lost my mom, two of my cousins, and my uncle. I also lost the connection I thought I had with someone I loved. So many things changed within such a short period that I don’t think I even had enough time to process one loss before another one came.
Back when I originally wrote about this part of my life in my private journal, I was still very much in the middle of it. I was heartbroken, confused, grieving, and trying to figure out who I was supposed to become after everything that happened.
A few years later, I think I understand that version of myself a little better.
I wasn’t necessarily trying to “find myself.” I think I was starting to realize how little attention I’d been paying to myself in the first place.
For a long time, I was very good at going with the flow. I let circumstances decide a lot for me. I worried about what people would think, what was expected of me, whether I was doing life correctly, whether I was too much of something or not enough of something else.
I tried to fit myself inside boxes because boxes felt safer.
But the problem with constantly adjusting yourself to fit into other people’s expectations is that eventually, you have a hard time figuring out which decisions are actually yours.
I once described it as feeling like a character in a movie with no creative control.
I still think that’s a pretty accurate description.
Except now, I don’t think taking creative control of your life means dramatically changing everything overnight. I used to think a “second chance” meant becoming a completely different person.
Now I think it can be much quieter than that.
Sometimes it’s changing your mind about something you once thought was important to you. Sometimes it’s realizing you’ve outgrown certain interests, people, habits, or priorities. Sometimes it’s deciding you don’t need to be everywhere or do everything. Sometimes it’s writing more because you suddenly enjoy writing again. Sometimes it’s simply paying more attention to what actually feels right for you now.
And I think that’s something I’ve learned about myself as I’ve gotten older: I don’t necessarily want to go back to the person I used to be.
There are things she loved that I don’t care much about anymore.
Fashion is actually one of them.
I don’t follow fashion the way I used to, and I’m not particularly interested in what’s trendy anymore. These days, what matters more to me is dressing appropriately in a way that feels comfortable and represents who I am and what I value.
I’m not dressing for other people.
I’m dressing for myself.
Maybe getting older has something to do with it. I’m old enough now to know that I don’t need other people’s approval for something as simple as what I choose to wear. I have different priorities these days, and that’s okay.
But I still think about that dress I made in college sometimes.
Not because I want to become that fashion-loving girl again, but because I like what she represented.
She took what she had and made something out of it. She used her imagination. She wasn’t worried that her dress wasn’t as beautiful or expensive as everyone else’s. She was simply proud because she created it herself.
That’s the part of her I want to keep.
The creativity. The resourcefulness. The ability to enjoy something without constantly comparing it to what everyone else has.
Maybe growing into yourself isn’t always about rediscovering everything you used to love.
Sometimes you outgrow things.
Sometimes your priorities change.
Sometimes the things that once mattered so much to you simply don’t anymore, and new things take their place.
I don’t think that’s losing yourself. If anything, maybe that’s part of knowing yourself better.
I’ve changed a lot since I first wrote about this. I’m probably going to change my mind about many things again. I’m learning that this is normal.
I also don’t have the dramatic “this is my year, and everything changes now!” declaration anymore.
Life humbled me enough to know better. Haha.
What I have instead is a better understanding that I can keep making small decisions that bring me closer to a life that actually feels like mine.
I can create things. I can change direction. I can say no to things that no longer fit. I can outgrow things without feeling guilty about it. I can try something simply because I’m curious about it.
And I can trust God a little more with the parts I still don’t understand.
I still believe difficult seasons can redirect us. Maybe we don’t always understand why certain things happen, and I’m not sure we’re supposed to. But slowing down has taught me to pay more attention to what brings me peace, what drains me, what I’m doing because I genuinely want to, and what I’m doing simply because I think I’m supposed to.
Maybe knowing yourself isn’t about finding your way back to who you used to be.
Maybe it’s about being honest about who you are now.
And right now, I think I’m getting better at that.
